


No Sign of Weakness

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: First and Commander: Namira Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dragon Age Quest: In Hushed Whispers, F/M, Haven (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Namira Lavellan is shaken by the dark future she glimpsed in Redcliffe.  It's Cullen she trusts with her fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sign of Weakness

Namira Lavellan doesn’t know why she spends so much time with Cullen.

She tries to tell herself it’s nice to speak with others besides her companions.  They mean the world to her, this disparate group of people at her side, but sometimes they fight amongst themselves and it’s good to get away from the bickering.  Even among her clan she often stayed alone, sitting beneath her favorite tree or out on the cliffside overlooking the camp, near the people, but not with them.  Crowds tire her out, and sometimes even a group of three is more than she can handle.

But she knows that explanation only holds if she then spends her free time alone.

She also knows she should be wary of him.  He doesn’t understand the Dalish or know much about them, and though she admits she is not the best Dalish she could be - she admires the old days but does not yearn for them, more intent on here and now - she still wears her vallaslin proudly.  More than being a shem, he was once a templar.  The weight of her staff at her back sometimes seems heavier when she speaks to him, knowing that if things had been different they could have been enemies, terrible ones.

But there’s something she finds calming about him.  Perhaps it’s the way he seems so unruffled - well, except for sometimes when she makes a sly remark and he goes pink across the cheeks.  Perhaps it is that he seems so strong, so certain of his role.  She has never felt that way herself, and she likes how it fits him.  When she feels unsettled or anxious about what the Inquisition holds, she finds that spending time with him leaves her feeling better.

After the visit to the dark future she does not sleep well for days.  She sees red lyrium when she closes her eyes, Leliana’s tortured face.  One day she groggily makes her way around Haven, kicking through the snow (does it ever stop?).  She’s been up all night with dark dreams, and they have left her sluggish and dull.

For once Cullen is alone, his new recruits training on the other side of camp.  The Iron Bull and the Chargers are showing them new tricks.  Cullen’s at the recruits’ tents going over their equipment when Namira draws up beside him, feeling troubled.

“How goes the day?” she asks, trying to smile, though she doesn’t feel like it.

“The new soldiers are shaping up well,” says Cullen, turning to look at her.  "And –“  He hesitates, seeing the look on her face.  "Are you quite all right?”

His concern touches her, but she’s embarrassed it was that obvious.  She sighs, crossing her arms.  "No.  Well -  no.“

“What’s troubling you, Herald?”  He cocks his head to one side, and the worried set to his eyes makes her feel a little better.  Perhaps she’s right to feel so disturbed.  Still, though, she fears that if she tells him what frightens her, he’ll lose confidence in her.

“I don’t wish to bother you,” she says, though it’s not at all the truth.

“You’re not,” he says firmly.

He continues to gaze at her, though.  She studies his face, noting the fine lines etched at the edges of his eyes.  She looks away, down at the ground.  "It’s what Dorian and I saw in Redcliffe.  It’s still upsetting me and I - I was looking for someone to talk to.“

Cullen glances around them, sees his men off in the distance still at work.  He nods.  "Would you like to take a walk?  I’ve seen you, lately, in the woods.”

She nods back, trying not to look eager.  They walk towards the woods, the snow giving beneath their boots.  They’re in silence for a few minutes, Cullen waiting for her to speak.

“I didn’t think the world could get that bad,” she says finally.  "The Breach was bad enough.  A hole in the sky?  But the rest of the world… it’s still recognizable as  _our world_.  This wasn’t.  Red lyrium was springing out of the walls, out of  _people_.”  She shudders, still remembering the buzzing itch in her ears she had gotten whenever she had been forced to be near the stuff.  She suspects that given long enough she would hear it as singing, but she cannot bear to think of a world in which that happens.

“It’s a grave threat indeed,” says Cullen.  “Lyrium alone is dangerous enough, let alone this corrupted version.”  A muscle in his cheek tightens as he speaks.  “And this Elder One… we must be on our guard.”  His hand, as if unconsciously, goes to the pommel of his sword, but he does not grip it.  Instead he turns to her.  

“Anyone who says they are not frightened is a fool.”

“Are you frightened, then?” she asks.

He lets out a long breath, crossing his arms.  “Yes.  I do not know what the days ahead hold for us.  I fear much will be lost before this sees its end.”

She nods.  She is not sure if it is a comfort that he feels unsettled as well – she had almost hoped for a cheery “I’m certain things will be all right!” but  when she considers it, this is better.  

“That… helps, Cullen,” she says softly.  “To know I’m not wrong in fearing what might happen.”  She bites her lip, unsure if she should speak further.  Before she can think better of it, she confesses, “Ever since Redcliffe – I can’t sleep.  I keep seeing it.  Everything ruined and shattered and red, and the people – our people –”  Her voice cracks.  

The tightness in Cullen’s face relaxes, his brows shifting into an expression of concern, his scarred lips slightly parted.  She takes in a deep breath, willing herself to be calm.  

“Herald –”  His eyes, tawny gold, are almost gentle as he gazes at her.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.”

She shrugs, somewhat ashamed.  “I haven’t told anyone else.  I – I want to be strong for the others.  I was supposed to be Keeper for my clan one day, did you know that?”  Namira almost laughs at the idea.  She had never wanted that life.  “I thought I would make a terrible leader, and look!  I was right.”  She shakes her head.  “I can’t let them see me struggling.  Can I?  I have to act like we really can seal the Breach.  Of course, that’s with the help of the mages you despise, so –”

He reaches out quickly, lays a gloved hand on her shoulder.  Even through the cloth Namira can feel how strong his hand is, and the action stops her rambling as she looks up at him.

“I  _don’t_  despise mages,” Cullen says with a vehemence that startles her.  “Not anymore.”  He grips her shoulder firmly.  “I know what they are capable of, and I know abominations can occur with the snap of one’s fingers.  But I know this, too.  The people you’ve brought over here have been conscientious and eager to help.  I see them practicing their healing spells and researching ways of closing the Breach.  Even if it is not the choice I would have made – I believe now it will work.  I believe what you’ve done  _will_  fix this.”

Namira tilts her head slightly, considering him.  She nods.  “Thank you.  I admit… I was most concerned about what you would think when I made that arrangement.”

He smiles, his mouth pulling up at one side, crooked and genuine.  His hand is still heavy on her shoulder; he has not withdrawn it, his grip has only loosened, but she does not mind.  

“I can hardly imagine why.”  He laughs to himself for a moment, before saying seriously, “You are a strong leader.  I see it in the way the others gravitate to you, how they look to you for direction.  They respect you, Herald, and so do I.  And I tell you it’s no sign of weakness to ask for help.”

“You don’t seem the sort to ask for anyone’s help,” she says shrewdly.  

“Well, ah, perhaps not,” says Cullen, clearly nettled.  “But it’s still decent advice.  You should speak with the healers for a sleeping draught, if you have no Dalish remedies in mind.  They make an excellent draught that helps to clear the mind before sleep.  I have found it –”  He stops suddenly, cutting himself short.

She catches the misstep.  “You’ve needed it too?” Namira asks.

Cullen sighs, averting his gaze.  “I – yes.  Now and then.”  He’s stiff and uncomfortable now, shoulders hunching as he looks away.  

She reaches up and quickly touches the back of his hand, squeezing it for an instant before letting it fall back to her side.  She’s slightly fascinated by how much larger his hand is than hers, but the fascination fades as she looks at him.  His reluctance to talk further on the topic rolls off him in waves.  “It’s all right,” she says.  “A very wise commander once told me it was no sign of weakness to ask for help.”

The crooked smile slowly creeps back across his face.  “Is that so, Herald?”  He pulls his hand back from her shoulder, and she is surprised at how disappointed she is.

To cover that up, she says quickly, “It’s true!  Completely true.  But… if there’s anything you’d like to discuss with me… let me know.”

“I will,” says Cullen.  “If you’ll promise me the same.”

Namira takes in the sight of him, tall man with round ears, blond hair looking far too soft, his cheeks and nose ruddy against the ever-present snow, heavy armor worn as if it weighs nothing, fur mantle spanning his broad shoulders.  And when she says “I promise,” her stomach flutters, just a little, foolish feeling, and she thinks,  _Oh, no.  Is this what I think it is?_   

The answer is yes.  

But that does not change the pleasant fluttering sensation, and she can think of nothing more to do with him than smile, for the first real time in days. 

**Author's Note:**

> neeeeeeerds


End file.
